Saving Grace
by J2MAlwaysForever
Summary: What if Sam and Dean knew Angels and Demons existed long before they thought they did? What if John did too? What if they just didn't remember it? What if Castiel had played a role in their lives long before they realized, but had wiped their memory clean? Set when Dean is 20 and Sam is 17. Hurt!Dean Hurt!Sam Angsty!Dean Angsty!John
1. Chapter 1

Chapter 1

 _John_

John Winchester wiped sweat off his brow. He had had a long day. John had spent his morning talking to the locals of Hopedale, Illinois investigating the death of three teenagers. They'd all died in an apparently haunted eighteenth-century home, each of them with foam coming out of their mouth, their eyes jaundice, blood coming off of their blue lips. Autopsy had ruled out any type of overdose or toxic substances in their systems. It was like they had literally just dropped dead.

But they didn't just drop dead. After a couple hours talking with the locals, he was finally led to a man by the name of Benjamin Hawkings. He was a well-known historian of the town and spent much of his life studying what the town called the "Yates Estate Haunting". Legend had it that the woman who owned the house, Amelia Welsch, had died mysteriously of the same symptoms, but the police could never pin it as a murder, so the case was dismissed. Benjamin told John that ever since, the place was known to be haunted and anyone who stepped foot in the house was dancing with death. Benjamin said some lived to tell the tale, while others died just the same. After the first deaths, the police blocked off the house, stating there was a biohazard in the home that was lethal even though investigators could never pin point it. But Benjamin and John both knew better. Benjamin said he could never figure out the pattern, but that was for John to find out.

After speaking with Benjamin, John waited until the moon had risen before heading to investigate the estate himself. With him, he carried his Browning shotgun and his .22 pistol, both loaded with rock-salt. He carried his lighter and more Kosher salt in his cargo pockets, along with an EMF Ellen Harvelle had loaned him a few years back. He also carried a magazine of silver bullets in his pockets, just in case it wasn't just a vengeful spirit. Could never be too careful.

The spirit had showed herself to John before John had even cleared the first floor. His EMF started going wild and he turned to see a woman, her face looking the same as the teenagers. She roared in an outrage at him and reached for him, but John was faster and blasted her with a round of rock salt. She vanished into thin air and then John had started running. He knew he didn't have much time before the poison hit him. He ran and ran and ran until he found what he believed to be her bedroom.

John started tearing the room to shreds, looking for anything that could be keeping her here. The estate had been renovated not long after her death, and all her old furniture and belongings had been removed. She didn't even have surviving family, which made it a way harder job for John to find what was keeping her here. The room was empty, save for an old bed frame and vanity, neither of which had anything in them.

Amelia had showed up again then, but this time John had been too slow. She sent John flying into the wall with just a flick of her hand, which just happened to be John's lucky break. He broke through the walls with ease, his shotgun flying out of his hand. He had closed his eyes during the impact and when he opened them, he found that he was in a secret room, belonging to none other than the ghost herself. She tried to attack John once again, but this time John sent a round from his pistol into her chest.

While she disappeared again, John began searching for anything that could be important enough to her to keep her spirit here. He was starting to think he was never going to find anything until he removed a painted portrait of Amelia and found an old wooden box hidden behind it. He opened it and found a locket, containing what seemed to be a picture of her and a former lover.

John had finally hit the jackpot, but as he turned to salt and burn it, the woman was in front of him. She reached out and wrapped her hands around his throat as John gripped the locket as tightly as he could. John would never forget the pain he felt. His throat burned, and his eyes were on fire. He felt as if he was suffocating and burning alive at the same time. He could feel his face starting to swell, his head felt like it was going to explode. John was starting to lose his vision and could literally feel his heart rate starting to slow as death began to take over.

But John thought of his boys waiting back at the motel in Missouri for him, and that gave him the strength he needed to reach the salt in his pocket. He flicked his wrist holding the canister as hard as he could causing the salt to fly out and hit Amelia. It wasn't a lot, but it was enough to get her to vanish for just a moment. But that moment was all John needed. She reappeared before him, but it was too late for her. John salted and burned the locket and watched her burn and disappear into nothingness. Just as quickly as she had vanished, John felt the burning sensation and the swelling leaving his body. He felt perfectly normal. He'd done it. He had nearly lost his life, but John saved another town from more irreversible heart-break.

And now John wiped the sweat off his brow as he sat in his beloved 67' Chevy Impala, chugging a bottle of ice-cold water as he sat just a few blocks away from the estate. He didn't often do hunts in a day, but he was anxious to get back to his boys. Sam's seventeenth birthday was in just a couple days and John wanted to do something special for him, give him a weekend to do whatever he wanted, like a normal family. He and Sammy's relationship was starting to get rocky, enough to the point that he was afraid Sam hated him sometimes. Of course, John wouldn't blame him if he did; John had been a terrible father to the both of them and he deserved every ounce of hatred he got. But that didn't mean he wanted it. He loved his boys more than anything on this earth and everything he did was to protect them, but somewhere along the line John had begun treating the both of them as soldiers and not his sons, something he swore he'd never do.

As John thought of his boys, he heard his phone ring from his glovebox. John grabbed it, and when he looked at the caller ID his heart sank and his stomach began to churn. It was Dean. Dean never called, and he especially never called at two in the morning. John almost didn't want to answer, afraid of what his son was going to tell him, or afraid that it wasn't even Dean on the other line, but someone or something that had taken them.

"Dean?" John answered apprehensively.

"Dad, hey, sorry to bother you," Dean's voice said through the other line. John could hear the apprehensiveness in Dean's voice and could tell Dean was struggling to remain composed by the way his breath shook.

"What's going on Dean?" John asked. He didn't realize he was gripping the edge of his seat until his fingers started cramping. He was trying to keep himself calm, but part of him wanted to scream at Dean to just tell him. He had to know his boys were okay.

"It's Sam, Dad," Dean answered. "Something's wrong with him."

For a moment, John said nothing. He tried to process what that could mean. What could be wrong with Sam? He was fine when he left him. Was he sick? Dean wouldn't call him if Sam was just sick. He'd played doctor for Sam more than John ever had. Why was Dean's voice so sad? He sounded broken.

"Something like what Dean?" John finally responded. "What happened to your brother?" John knew his voice sounded accusing, like he was blaming Dean and he felt horrible for it; he always put so much pressure on Dean.

"I-I don't know Dad. He-he came home from his friend Justin's

and sat on the bed and hasn't said a word. I tried talking to him, but just nothing. He won't eat. Dad, he's hardly even moving," Dean stuttered. Dean never stuttered. He was always calm and confident. Dean was shaken to the core by whatever it was that was wrong with Sam, and that scared the life out of John.

"He hasn't said a word to you?"

"No," Dean answered. "Not a freakin' word. Every time I say something to him, he just continues to stare down at the damn floor. Sometimes he looks at me, and he looks angry, Dad. Like furious."

"Well, did you piss him off?" John asked. If Dean was scaring the life out of John just for some fight those two were having, he was going to kill him.

"I don't know, but if I did you and I both know this isn't how Sam would react," Dean said. "Sammy wouldn't act like that. He just seems…cold. It's like I'm staring at a stranger, Dad. He's Sam, but he's not my brother."

Dean's words set off alarm bells in John's head. _He's Sam, but he's not my brother._ John had spent the last seventeen years of his life hunting the thing that killed his wife, his Mary. He'd only recently found out that Sam could possibly be connected to it. Each death similar to his wife had kids involved, each around Sammy's age of six months at the time. He read articles on them and researched them for hours, but so far, he had had no luck finding anything out about those kids other than they had all suffered dramatic loss when they were an infant. It scared the hell out of John thinking that Sam could be wrapped up in this somehow, but he just couldn't figure out _why_ or _how._ It killed John; it was nearly all he thought about.

"Dad, are you there?"

John was so lost in thought he hadn't realized he'd been quiet for more than a moment. "Yeah, I'm here," he told his son. "Where are you right now, Dean?"

"I'm outside of the motel room in the parking lot. Sam's inside."

John swallowed a huge lump in his throat. What he was about to say didn't sit well with him at all. "Dean, I need you to listen to me and do everything I say, okay?"

"Yes, sir." The answer came as soon as John finished his last word, like it was already on the tip of Dean's tongue.

John had already started the engine to Impala and had turned out of the driveway of the Estate onto one of the main roads. If something bad was going on with Sam, he needed to get back as quickly as possible. Both of his boys' lives could depend on it and he wouldn't risk that even for a second. "Okay, Dean. I know this is the last thing either of us want, but I need you to leave Sam."

"Leave Sam?" Dean's voice echoed through the phone. He sounded just as startled as John had felt saying those words. "Dad, are you joking?"

"No, Dean. If something is wrong with Sam, and something is in control of him or possessing him, I don't know what it is, and if you're around him you're in danger. You need to leave him and go to another motel room. Put salt lines along the room, do everything you can to barrier yourself off from anything supernatural. Sammy will be okay."

"Dad, I—"

"Dean, listen to me damn it!" John yelled, more irritated at the fact that he wasn't with his boys right now than he was at Dean. "If you're telling me something is wrong with Sam that's more than just a bad mood, then I believe you. You know Sam more than you know yourself. And if whatever is wrong with him causes him to become violent, I don't need you getting hurt. You would either be put in the position of letting yourself get hurt, or hurting Sam, and neither of those are acceptable. You need to get the hell out of there and—"

"Hold on, Dad," Dean said, his tone dropping about eight octaves. "I think Sam's coming."

John remained silent as he sped onto the interstate towards Missouri. He listened intently, trying to hear any indication of what could be going on.

"Sam, hey, you okay?" He heard Dean ask. "Sam? What're you— "And then a loud _thud_ sounded from the other line and John knew it was some type of metal hitting flesh. He heard Dean shout in agony and then dreaded silence.

John's heart jumped out of his chest. "Dean?!" he shouted. There was no answer. The only things John could hear were the random sounds of the phone being tossed around and occasional heavy breathing. He didn't know if that was Sam, Dean, or someone else entirely.

"Sam?" He asked this time. "Sam are you there?"

Still, no answer. John glanced down at the speedometer on the Impala and noticed he was going ninety instead of the previous seventy-five. Somebody was hurt and it was one of his kids. John couldn't get the ache in his heart to go away. He hated himself for not being with them. They needed him and he couldn't be there. He was the worst father in the world and his boys were both paying for that right now. They deserved so much more.

"Sam," John said into the phone, trying desperately to hear one of his son's voices. "Sam, if you're there, if that's you, I need you talk to me son. Whatever is going on, I can help you. We can get through this. I just need you to talk to me, Sammy. I need you to tell me if Dean is okay, if you're okay."

This time John got an answer, but it was only the click of the phone hanging up. John swore, and threw his phone at the passenger side window. It slammed against it with a loud _clank_ and fell against the seat, but John wouldn't have cared if the window would have shattered. He was focused on one thing and one thing only: his boys.


	2. Chapter 2

Chapter 2  
 _John_

John didn't remember anything between leaving Illinois and arriving back at the Motel 6 in Rolla, Missouri. It'd taken him three hours too long to get here. He had tried calling Sam and Dean about every fifteen minutes and never got an answer. He had never felt more terrified in his life. His head was spinning; his heart felt like it was going to explode out of his chest. If he had any food in his system to throw up, he'd surely have done it by now.

As soon as the Impala was put in park, John jumped out of the car. An eerie feeling settled over him right away. Everything was quiet; it was like no one was even here. The only sound John could hear was the motel sign lights flickering on and off. He didn't see any signs of Sam or Dean in the parking lot. Chills crept up and down in his spine, but it wasn't necessary from the brisk fall morning wind.

When John got to the door of his room, his stomach once again did a one-eighty twist. On the cement to the right of John's feet was a small patch of blood. It wasn't a lot, but it was nearly fresh, and it was dark, definitely human. For a moment, John could only stare, wondering which son the blood belonged to. It was more than likely Dean's, John thought sadly, though it would break John's heart just as much if it were Sam's. His hands started shaking as he fumbled with the keys, struggling to get the door unlocked. Part of John didn't want to find what was through the door. But he had to, so when he opened the door he kept his hand tight around his pistol, just in case something besides his boys were in there.

The smell of sulfur hit John instantly as he panned the room with his gun. Once the room was cleared, he lowered it slightly, looking around the room for any signs of his boys. John remembered Bill Harvelle telling him about the possible existence of demons and how sulfur the only key indicator. Of course, the talk of demons was far-fetched, but John couldn't deny the strong smell of sulfur. What if it really was a demon? What would a demon want with his boys, and more in particular, what would it want with Sam? Was a demon connected to Mary's death? The thoughts had John's head in a frenzy.

As John was looking around, he noticed more blood spots on the old moldy carpet that definitely weren't there before. The heaviest amount of blood was near the bathroom door. It looked like someone had been picked up and set down and then picked up again. John walked towards the bathroom, feeling his heart pounding on his chest. He was either going to find Dean hurt, Sam hurt, both of them hurt, Dean hurt and Sam possessed, or no trace at all of them. None of the outcomes were good.

The sight before him when John opened the door made his heart stop. Dean was sprawled out in the tub, unconscious. Blood caked the right side of his temple, some having trickled down to his ear. Along with that he had a bruised jaw and a bloody nose, like he'd been dropped a couple times. His face was towards John and John didn't think he'd ever get that horrible image out of his head. He looked so pale, so lifeless. John was shell shocked.

"Dean!" John yelled and rushed to his son's side, putting his pistol away as he did so. He knelt down beside Dean and felt for a pulse right away. Thank God there was one.

John took a moment to compose himself before he lightly began shaking Dean's shoulders. Dean was alive, but that didn't mean he was out of the woods yet. He was more than likely severely concussed and falling asleep during a concussion was a bad combination. "Dean, wake up." No answer, so John shook a little harder. "Come on, Dean. I need you to wake up for me." Still no answer. "DEAN!" John screamed this time out of frustration and worry. He felt so helpless.

This time, Dean stirred and let out a small moan. John held Dean's shoulders steady so he didn't move too quickly and startle himself. John couldn't describe the overwhelming relief in his heart. At least he was awake.

"Easy, Dean," John said in a comforting tone he hadn't used in a long time. "Take your time."

Finally, Dean's emerald green eyes fluttered open. He blinked a few times and looked around. John could tell he was obviously confused and was trying to figure out where he was and why he was there. John could see the pain in his eyes and that was something Dean rarely showed.

"Dad?...what happened…where…" and then his eyes went more alert. "Sam, where's Sam? Dad, where's Sam?" He asked in a panic.

"Calm down, Dean," John told him in his stern, drill sergeant voice. He sadly knew Dean would respond to that voice instantly. John caught glimpse of Dean's gash out of the corner of his eye. It looked deep. "Let's get you stitched up first and then we can talk about what happened."

"But, Dad. Sam…Sam did this to me. We have to go find him; we have to get him. He's in troub—"

"Dean!" John yelled, stopping him as he tried to stand up. Dean stopped and looked helplessly at his father. "You're no good to Sam if you keep passing out on me. Let me stitch you up and you can tell me what happened. Then, as soon as you're good, we'll go after Sam, okay?"

With a sigh of defeat, Dean finally nodded. "Yes sir," he said, like he had a choice anyways. John nodded and then slowly hoisted Dean out of the tub, slinging one of Dean's arms around his shoulder and wrapping his arm around Dean's waist. John grunted as he lifted him; the boy was getting heavy.

"I can walk, Dad," Dean told him as soon as his feet hit the bathroom tile.

"You sure?" John asked him. Dean could be one stubborn S.O.B. sometimes. The apple didn't fall far from the tree.

"Yeah, Dad, I'm not a baby," Dean said, irritated. He shoved John off of him, took one step, and swayed. Luckily, John was there to catch him.

"How'd that walk go?" John asked as Dean slumped into him.

"Shut up," Dean responded and John began walking forward.

John helped Dean into the main room and sat Dean down at the edge of one of the beds. He instantly grabbed his first aid kit he kept hidden under the bed. He always had two: one to go with him and one to stay wherever Sam and Dean were. Just in case.

John unzipped the bag in front of him and quickly grabbed a sewing needle, bandages, disinfectant, cotton thread, and a small bowl to sterilize his tools, which he began to do right away. Stitching had become as easy as learning how to ride a bike for John. It was second nature to him. He'd done it enough, he knew exactly where everything was placed in the bag. Still though, stitching up one of his boys was never an easy thing for him.

First thing was first. Disinfectant.

"This is going to hurt like hell, Dean, so get ready," John told him.

"Yeah, I know the drill," Dean responded. It made John's heart hurt a little to hear him say that. His boy was used to being stitched up by his own father in dirty motel rooms. What kind of a father did that make him?

John began to very carefully pour the disinfectant across Dean's wound. Dean flinched, but otherwise made no other indication he was pain. After that was done, John took the sewing needle and thread and weaved it together. Dean closed his eyes, ready for the pain. Dean grunted as John poked the needle through his skin. He had to be careful not to mess up this time. He'd stitched plenty of heads in Nam, but this was different. This was Dean's head he was messing with.

"So tell me what the hell happened," John said as he continued to thread the needle through Dean's head. Talking would keep John less nervous and Dean less focused on the pain. It was a win for the both of them.

"I don't remember a lot," Dean said. "But, I remember seeing Sam walking towards me outside. He had a gun in his hand. He just came up and hit me and then everything was gone. I woke up in the room. He was talking to someone, Dad. He'd cut his arm and had bled into a bowl. I don't know who he was talking to, but it was no one good."

That made John stop midway through a stitch. He felt his blood run cold. "Sam's possessed," he said, more to himself than anything.

"Possessed by what? A ghost? What kind of ghost does that?"

"Did Sam react when he cut his arm?" John asked, ignoring Dean's question. He began to stitch faster now. He needed to find Sam.

"I didn't see him actually cut himself, but he didn't seem to be hurt at all. It looked like a substantial amount of blood. Dad, what's going on? What's wrong with Sam?"

John thought back to his conversation with Bill and the little research he'd done on his own. "What color were his eyes?"

"His eyes? Dad, what's going on? What do you know that you're not telling me?"

"Just answer the question, Dean!" John yelled, nearly messing up the second to last stitch. His heart had been beating a mile out of his chest since he got the call from Dean last night, but it seemed to only be intensifying. He was absolutely terrified for Sam's life.

"I…I don't know, Dad. He wasn't facing me. He was talking about someone named Lilith. He was saying how she was the key."

"The key to what?" John asked, trying to keep from screaming. Dean was out of it, couldn't remember much. It was killing John, though he knew it wasn't his fault. He needed to know where Sam was, needed to know what was going on with him. He needed to know now.

"I don't know. All I remember is him saying "the end." I blacked out, Dad. I don't know. I'm sorry."

 _Lilith was the key to the end._ John remembered Bill telling him Lilith was the first demon created by Lucifer. She was a white-eyed demon, the most powerful demon in Hell. She was said to be trapped in Hell still, but now John wasn't so sure. John's head kept screaming demon. Oh God, what if it was a demon? How could a demon have taken control over Sam? How was John supposed to save Sam? What did it want with Sam? Was this somehow connected to Mary's death? Why was Lilith involved? The end to what?

John had finished the stitching and wiped the excess blood off Dean's face. His wound looked good and clean now, but John would still have to keep an eye on Dean. He was concussed and would probably be pretty touch and go for a while. He also had to make sure Dean's wound didn't get infected. John felt like his head was going to explode. All this was too much. He just wanted his Sammy back.

"All done," John said. "Can you trace Sam's cell phone?"

Dean shrugged. "I can try. Sam downloaded some mumbo-jumbo on his computer a while ago to trace cell phones. He showed me how to do it a few times. I'll give it a shot."

John nodded and brought Sam's laptop sitting on the end table and brought it to Dean. It was worth a shot. "Get on it."

"Dad, what the hell is going on?" Dean asked as he opened the laptop and began to work. "You looked freak to hell and I know you know something," Dean stated. John looked over at him now and saw the fear in Dean's eyes. John didn't want to tell him; he wanted to protect Dean. Demons would be a whole new level for the both of them. Dean wasn't ready for that; John wasn't even ready himself.

"Just search for the phone, Dean," John barked. "As soon as we find out where Sam is, I'll explain everything okay?"

Dean huffed, but didn't say anything and began typing furiously away at the computer. John started pacing back and forth around the room nervously. He tried calling Sam multiple times and looked around the room for any sort of hints while he waited. Of course, no answer from Sam and no indication anywhere in the room of where he could be. The only indication that anything was here was the strong smell of sulfur. Whatever was in control of Sam didn't want to be found.

"Aha! Got it!I kicked this computer's ass!" Dean yelled out of nowhere.

"What? Where's Sam?" John asked, instantly moving to Dean's side.

Dean squinted at the screen a few times; John was sure his head must be pounding. "Looks like he placed a call twenty minutes ago in... Evansville, Wyoming? How in the hell would he have gotten there so fast?"

"Let's get going," John said, ignoring Dean's comment. He had already started gathering up their things. Luckily, they were pretty much always ready to go at a moment's notice. "I'll make some calls along the way, or worse case we'll just figure it out when we get there, but right now the most important thing is we get there."

Dean stood up and stared at his father. He was pissed. And terrified. John could see it in his eyes. "Dad, I need you to tell me what in the hell is going on with Sam, and I need you to tell me right now. What's happening with my little brother?!"

John's face softened. Maybe at least some honesty would be better at this point. "As soon as we get in the car, Dean, I'll tell you. I promise. But what's going on with Sam, I don't know if we can stop it. We have no time to waste, so I really need you to stop arguing with me and just cooperate."

Dean's face went a few shades paler and for a moment he just continued to stare at his father. John could see Dean's body physically trembling. He seemed more focused, more alert. The full weight of the situation was hitting him now. He was scared for his brother's life.

"As soon as we get in the car then," Dean said quietly and then the two of them hurried as fast as they could to do just that.


	3. Chapter 3

Chapter 3

 _Dean_

Dean sat in the passenger seat of the Impala, trying not to let his tears fall from his eyes. His head was pounding, but not all necessarily from the trauma he'd just endured. His father had spent the past couple hours explaining everything to him. He'd explained how demons are said to exist and the very real possibility that one killed his mother and that that same demon possibly wanted something with Sam. Dean felt sick to his stomach thinking a demon was inside Sammy right now, doing god knows what to his little brother. The more Dean thought about what he remembered when Sam came home and the things he did, the more he believed that it was true. Why did his family have to be cursed? He just wanted his brother back.

"I still don't understand," Dean said, trying to find any reason that it wasn't true, that it was just a ghost possessing Sam and that they would get him back and he would be fine and life would move on like normal. "What the hell would a demon want with Mom?"

There was no response so Dean looked over at his father. He was focused, eyes straight on the road, barely even blinking. His knuckles were a pure white as he gave the steering wheel a death grip. His brow was creased and his face set in stone, emotionless. But Dean could see he was scared, terrified even. He could tell just by the way his father clenched his jaw and the way his leg he wasn't using for the accelerator shook. It wasn't an expression he saw often on his father, and that's what scared Dean the most. Sam was in real trouble.

"Dad?" Dean asked again. Normally, if John didn't respond to him the first time, he wouldn't say anything, but Dean had to talk. He had to do something to make these agonizing twelve hours go by. If he thought only about the danger Sam was in any longer, he was going to lose his mind.

"I don't know, Dean," he finally responded, agitated. He wouldn't take his eyes from the road. "Your mother had a journal that was burned in the fire. She never let me read it. Sometimes, I feel like she had secrets, lots of secrets, but I never bothered her about them. I never thought they'd be secrets like this."

"If Sam is possessed, what is that doing to his body? Is it hurting him? How are we supposed to get it out of him? How are we supposed to kill it?"

His father sighed. "Dean, I-I don't know if we can kill a demon. As far as what it's doing to Sam's body, I'm sure it isn't good. Your brother is young, too young to host something as powerful as a demon. We're going to find a way to get it out of him, but we might have to face the reality that your brother may never be the same again. This is going to change him forever."

Dean shook his head. He refused to accept that, refused to accept that anything could ever happen to his little brother. "This is all my fault," Dean said. He felt like a thousand tons were being pushed on his chest. If he would've kept a better eye on Sam, if we would've just made him come home, none of this might never have happened. His whole life had been about protecting Sam and he messed it up when his dad was away. His dad had put all his trust in him; Sam had put all his trust in him to keep him safe and Dean had failed and now Sam was paying the price. Dean would never forgive himself for this.

"If the demon wanted Sam, it would've found him regardless of where he was and who was with him. No one would've been able to stop it. It would've killed you if you had gotten in the way," John said.

Dean swallowed the lump in his throat. What his father said didn't change how he felt in the slightest, but there was nothing more to say about it. "Is there anyone that can help us? Anybody that would know anything about facing a demon?"

John pulled out his cell phone and handed it to Dean. "I need you to call Pastor Jim and tell him what happened. If anyone would know something about demons, it'd be him."

Dean nodded and dialed the number. His breath shook as he waited for Pastor Jim to answer. How was he supposed to explain what happened to the man he and Sam both considered as their uncle and that it was all his fault?

The phone picked up after three long rings. "John, long time no talk! Are you well? How are the boys doing?" Pastor Jim said through the other line. He sounded genuinely happy. It was good to hear his voice.

"Pastor Jim…hey…it's Dean…" Dean answered, his tone completely opposite of his.

"Is your father okay?" Jim asked, his whole demeanor taking a sudden change. Dean knew he'd be able to sense something wrong just in the tone of Dean's voice.

"Yeah…yeah, Dad and I are fine. I'm calling about Sam. Something happened," he said and then launched into the tale of what happened. He left out no details, telling Pastor John everything that happened. He didn't want to skip what could be the littlest clue on how to help his brother. Dean got emotional as he spoke, having to stop a couple times. He just wanted to wake up from this nightmare.

The other end of the phone was silent for a long moment. "Often times demons will communicate with other, more powerful demons by blood ritual, which is what Sam had performed by what you were describing," Pastor John finally spoke. His voice was quiet and grave, which only told Dean just how bad this situation was. Not much phased Pastor John.

"So you think it's for sure a demon?" Dean asked. He didn't know what to say. John looked over at him sharply as he said that. He was just as anxious as Dean was.

"From what you're telling me, yes. I haven't heard of a demon appearing on Earth in a long time, at least not a legitimate one. There's been sightings and talk of people with black eyes killing innocents, causing destruction, but there has never been sufficient enough evidence. If Sam is really possessed, then this is big, Dean."

"How big?" Dean asked, afraid to hear the answer.

"You said Sam said that Lilith was the key?" Pastor Jim asked.

"What's he saying?" John interjected.

"Yeah," Dean replied, ignoring his father.

"Then, end of the world big." There was a pause as the both of them let his words sink in. _The key to the end._ It all made sense now. "Dean, Lilith was the first demon ever to be created under Lucifer. If she is on Earth, there's no telling what kind of destruction she could cause."

"How do we stop her? How do we save Sam?"

"Give the phone to your father, Dean," Pastor Jim instructed.

Dean did as he said, but he didn't want to. He wanted to know everything that was going on. If it involved Sam, he didn't want to miss one little detail. He tried to catch bits and pieces from his father and Jim's conversation, but he couldn't get what Jim just told him out of his head. _End of the world big._ Was the demon inside of Sam trying to start some kind of Apocalypse? What did that mean for Sam? Why was Sam even involved in this? Dean felt like his head was going to explode.

"Alright, Jim. Thanks," John said and then closed the phone. That got Dean's attention and he looked at his father expectantly. "Jim knows a guy in Wyoming. He's going to have him meet us in Evansville. Jim said there's a landmark there known as the Devil's Gate. He said if that name had any truth to it, Sam should be there. His friend knows how to trap a demon and he knows an exorcism. So if it all works out, the demon should leave Sam's body."

"So, Sam will be okay?" Dean asked, seeing the first glimmer of hope shine through over the past eight hours.

"It all depends on what it's done to Sam's body. He'll feel the hurt of everything the demon did after it's gone. Hopefully, the cuts on his arms didn't sever an artery."

Dean nodded, trying to comprehend the fact that even if they save Sam he could still be seriously hurt or…no. Dean couldn't finish the thought. "How much farther?" He asked, his voice catching.

John scoffed. "Technically eight hours, but I should make it in six. I'm going to pull off at the next exit and fuel up."

"Yes sir," Dean said. He took a deep breath. He had to toughen up, now. Sam needed him more than ever; he couldn't afford to break down right now. He was going to take this head on like he always did everything else and he was going to kick some demon ass.

The rest of the car ride was silent until John pulled up to a gas station in the middle of nowhere. They were the only ones there, despite it being early afternoon. The sun was out and blazing bright, but the nice cool breeze made the weather about perfect. Dean wasn't sure where they were; somewhere in Kansas he thought. He hated having to stop. Any second wasted could be a second too late for Sam.

"Alright, get out and stretch your legs," John ordered through the open window as he pumped fuel into Dean's Baby. "I'm going to run in and get some ibuprofen and an icepack for your head. You need to stay ahead of the pain."

"Yes sir," Dean responded, though he wanted to tell his dad that he wasn't a little kid anymore and could make his own choices.

As soon as his father walked inside, Dean got out and walked to the side of the building. He paced around and stretched his back and his legs, but only for a few moments before pulling out his cell phone. He needed to call Sam and he wanted to do so in private. If anybody could get through to his brother, it was Sam.

However, Dean barely even punched in a number before a sharp ringing in his ears sounded. He cringed and dropped his phone, covering his ears. The ringing was like nothing he'd ever heard before. It was so piercing he thought his ears were bleeding. He shouted for his father, but he was unable to hear his own voice. Dean fell to his knees, unable to bear it anymore. He was going to blow his eardrums out.

But then, the ringing stopped. Dean took a deep breath of relief and looked around, wondering what the hell had just happened. He stopped when he saw someone standing behind him against the wall. It was a man. He was wearing a long tan trench-coat, a black suit and tie with a white collared shirt underneath it. He stood about a six-feet, just a couple inches shorter than Dean, but his short black tousled hair added about an inch to him. He was staring at Dean with his sparkly blue eyes, an almost sort of amazed, sort of confused expression on his pale face.

Dean was on alert instantly and reached for his silver pistol he always kept tucked in the waistband of his jeans during a hunt. He stood on his feet and pointed the pistol at the strange man in front of him. He just stood there, curiously watching Dean. That creeped him out more than anything.

"Dean Winchester," The strange man said to him. His voice sounded off, deep, scratchy; like it was the first time the man had ever spoke.

"Who the hell are you and how do you know my name?" Dean asked, clicking a bullet in the chamber now. If he already knew who Dean was, that must mean he's a target.

The man eyed him curiously. "My name is Castiel," he finally spoke. "And I am an angel of the Lord."

Dean nearly laughed out loud. "You expect me to believe that?" Angels? Demons were crazy enough, but angels too? There was no way.

Castiel wasn't fazed. "I came down from Heaven," He said slowly. "I came to find you Dean Winchester."

Dean didn't believe the guy for one second, but he decided to play along anyways. "Oh yeah? And what would an angel want from me?"

"To stop your brother from ending the world," Castiel answered. "Dean, you're the only one that can do it. It's hard to explain, but I need you to come with me."

Dean smiled at the supposed angel. "Yeah right. Screw you asshole," Dean said and fired a bullet straight into Castiel's leg. He knew he couldn't kill a demon with bullets, but he figured he could at least slow him down, hurt him, just enough to question him. He also knew that the demon was occupying a human vessel and that if he shot the person in a vital area, he would die. Dean felt bad enough just injuring the guy, but he had to do something.

But Castiel didn't even flinch. He only stared at him with the same calm demeanor he had moments ago. He walked closer to Dean now, and Dean stumbled back. The fact that he didn't even care he'd just been shot made him one scary son of a bitch. Dean had no leverage now. He was defenseless.

Castiel was face to face with him now, their faces mere inches apart. "Nothing you try will bring harm to me, Dean Winchester. I understand your skepticism, but I am an angel, and I can prove it to you. I've been watching over you and your brother since you've been born, Dean. The prophets have been writing about you and your brother for years. You and Sam, you're meant to start the Apocalypse, but not now. Not for years down the road. But, you're also written as the only two people on this Earth that can sa—"

"Get the hell away from my son!" John yelled suddenly. Dean had never been more grateful to hear his father's voice. He turned and saw his dad aiming his own pistol towards Castiel. He went to move to the side, but Dean realized he couldn't move. It was as if he was glued to the asphalt. His feet wouldn't even budge.

"Dean, get out of the way!" John yelled furiously.

"I can't!" Dean yelled back. "He's doing something to me! I can't move!"

And then all of a sudden, he saw his dad fall to the ground, instantly unconscious. "NO!" Dean yelled, shocked. He felt his stomach drop and a wave of dizziness hit him. His father was just lying there, motionless. Dean couldn't see from here if he was breathing or not. What did Castiel just do to his father?

"I'M GOING TO KILL YOU!" Dean screamed in an outrage, still trying to fight off the invisible ward keeping him in place. He couldn't keep his eyes off his father just lying there. He felt his hear beating out of his chest. If his father was hurt….or…no. No, he couldn't be, not his unstoppable father. "What did you do to him?!" he screamed back at Castiel.

"Your father is asleep. I did not harm him," he answered. "I only needed him to not intervene."

"Intervene with what?!" Dean yelled. He was furious. No one hurt his family; no one even touched his family without feeling Dean's wrath.

"We have to go now," Castiel said stiffly, emotionless. "I'll explain everything once we get there."

Dean tried to argue, but there was nothing he could do. Castiel put his hand on his right shoulder, and then in a second; the two of them disappeared into thin air, no trace of them ever having been there.


End file.
